


How far we've come

by orphan_account



Series: Tidbits [14]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst?, Batbabies being dramatic, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, attempts at humor, i wrote this while sleep deprived, so crack-ish, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22666885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ‘Interrogation’ is a necessary part of the job Jason doesn’t particularly enjoy.He pushes aside the memory of Tim’s dead-eyed stareJason takes a step closer, entering the other’s personal space, voice taking on a slightly unhinged tone. The knife comes up to rest dangerously on a gagged cheek.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Series: Tidbits [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541653
Comments: 14
Kudos: 214





	How far we've come

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Batman or any other recognizable character or setting.

‘Interrogation’ is a necessary part of the job Jason doesn’t particularly enjoy.

His captive, slung over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, struggles weakly, kicking at his chest, in a last, desperate, try for freedom. Not that he’ll ever manage, of course. Jason’s made sure of that when he got the drop on him a few dimly-lit streets back.

He’d secured his target quickly, efficiently using surprise and the cover of Gotham’s moonless night to avoid too much of a struggle. He isn’t in any hurry to fight. They’ll get to the painful part of the evening soon enough.

Then, he’d booked it out of there, getting them to a more _suitable_ location. He can’t let Batman find him too soon and put a brutal end to all his plans. This is too important to let Mr-Moral-High-Ground interfere before they can… talk.

Bruce has made his disapproval of Jason’s methods very clear over the years. Dishing out judgmental stares and lectures like he has any room to talk. 

(Jason takes comfort in the fact that any medical professional will doubtlessly agree with him on that point. The Bat is a big fat hypocrite.)

Another struggle accompanies a muffled sound – fear? Rage? Good. He can use either. - as he flies over the gap between two rooftops. The safehouse by the docks is his safest bet to give him enough time to get the information he needs.

“Shut the fuck up.” He rasps out.

Muffled protests – pleas? Probably not. Not yet. – echo around the cold, empty alleyways as the struggles redouble in intensity. He lets out a low grunt when a kick connects.

Cold anger fills him again. The entire mess is this little fucker’s fault.

Dropping down from the roof, he enters said safehouse, quickly making his way to the basement, where he drops his charge in a lone chair, tying him again. Once Jason’s certain that everything is secured, he doubles back, closing and locking the door.

He lits the basement’s sole lightbulb – a harsh, glaring thing that shines directly in his captive’s face – when he begins speaking, lacing his voice with ice. Equally glacial, murderous eyes glare back up at him.

“I know you think you’re very clever.”

He takes a knife out and starts idly playing with it. A small twitch comes from the chair’s occupant, immediately followed by a snarl.

“Pulling one over Red Robin. Incapacitating him in the process.”

He pushes aside the memory of Tim’s dead-eyed stare

Jason takes a step closer, entering the other’s personal space, voice taking on a slightly unhinged tone. The knife comes up to rest dangerously on a gagged cheek.

“It’s quite the accomplishment.” He purrs “But you see, I can’t let what you did pass. So, despite your admirable attempts to avoid me, these last few days, I decided it was time for a small… chat.”

He watches in satisfaction as his captive tries to free himself, only to find the ropes too well secured.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

He cuts the gag off. Now that they are a few streets away from Bruce’s patrol routes and ridiculously efficient Bat-ears, he can afford to let the little shit shriek at him as much as he wants to. As long as he gets some peace afterwards. The last few days have been fucking _trying_ to say the least.

Robin snarls viciously, completely unbothered by the glaring light.

“Hood. Release me right this instant and I may consider not scooping out your eyes with a dull spoon.”

Jason steps back, putting the knife back in its holster. He throws his hands up violently, voice still tainted by the sheer frustration and sleep deprivation of the last few days.

“No, you little shit. I’ve tried patience. I’ve tried letting you two settle this like civilized people. But no. You just _had_ to take it one step further.”

Tim on a warpath is fucking scary, okay?

Damian juts his chin higher, defying him, a stubborn look taking over his face.

“I only did what I deemed necessary. The situation was getting out of control.”

“A situation you created in the first place.”

“I most certainly did not.”

Is the gremlin fucking serious?

“Yeah? What’d he do to deserve that, then?”

“He wounded an innocent in order to get to me.”

This can’t be about-

“Okay. You have three seconds to tell me this isn’t about what I think this is about. Because if it is, I swear to God I am going to shoot you, then give what’s left of you to Croc to do as he pleases.”

Robin’s expression only grows more stubborn. Jason looks up to the ceiling and thinks longingly about both his collection of knives and the glorious days he’d still been an only child.

Maybe he thinks some about the possible correlation between the two, too.

Then, with the sort of patience he deserves to be canonized for, he looks back at Damian.

“So let me get this clear. You stole every electronic and caffeinated substance Red Robin has access to because he accidentally stepped on your dog’s tail?”

Robin nods.

“I do not believe the injury to be accidental.”

Jason nods back.

“And that seems like a reasonable reaction to you?”

“I initially thought about using other methods. But this one had the added benefit of making Nightwing happier.”

Sure, Tim not working for once is nice. Dick being happy is nice. Dick being focused on someone else’s problems than Jason’s is even nicer. What is _not_ nice is all of Tim’s not-distracted-anymore brainpower focused only on making their lives miserable until he recovers his stolen property. That is about as close to nice as a giant, raw, suppurating blister.

“Where the fuck did you put them?” He questions, decided not to grace that with an answer.

“Agent A is aware of their location.”

“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to go ask him directly?”

“A rhetorical question, I’m sure.”

“I have half a mind to leave you here, you insufferable-”

“Please do try. I’d be delighted to introduce you to the consequences of such an action. I’m sure Father would, too.”

“Oh, would he? I wouldn’t be so sure about that. Three weeks is such a looong time after all. By the time we come back, who would even suspect me? That is, if they ever found your body.”

Damian stiffens.

“They would notice my absence long before that.”

“With the way you pissed Red off?” Jason snorts. “Not likely. What makes you think he’d report it to B?”

Which is a big, fat lie, of course. Tim'd drop everything in an instant, and Damian only pretends not to know that. But on that cheerful note – Damian’s satisfying look of anger being the cheerful note, here – and because Bruce just loves proving Jason wrong, preferably so when he has an audience, the door bursts open, Batman’s threatening form swiftly entering the room.

“Hood. Release him. Now.”

“No.” He crosses his arms. “Not until he talks.”

“Father.” Robin greets solemnly, as dignified as one can be when red in the face and tied to a rickety wooden chair. “Rest assured I won’t.”

It tells a lot about Jason’s and his improved relationship that Bruce just looks tired of their bullshit and not, say, alarmed that he really is on the verge of killing the brat. Almost makes Jason feel all warm, being trusted like that.

Almost. 

Their comms crackle to life.

“Might I remind the young Masters that they have a mission to attend to. That is, if they’re all quite done being dramatic, of course. I wouldn’t dare interrupt business I’m sure must be more important than the thousands of lives that are currently at stake.”

Oops.

“Coming. Sorry, Agent A.”

**Author's Note:**

> Jason: _and that seems like a reasonable reaction, to you, he says, dramatically, while kidnapping his little brother just to get some peace_ Peter Todd


End file.
